


Claim By Right (That Which is Ours)

by Bennyhatter



Series: Feral [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura & Keith (Voltron) Friendship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animalistic, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feral Behavior, Gen, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Platonic Cuddling, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: Everything hurts. It's pain and fear and the roar of blood in his ears, except his blood is screaming one word -- one name -- over and over again as Keith drags himself from the wreckage of the Galra ship he'd hijacked.(Shiro gets hurt in a battle, badly. Keith and the others come to an understanding while he heals.)





	Claim By Right (That Which is Ours)

**Author's Note:**

> WHY.
> 
> Okay so at this point I think it's safe to say I'm going away from Canon with some things. To be fair, I think I've done that from the beginning, but oh well.
> 
> I can't believe people are enjoying my spazzmatic flailing into this fandom so much. YOU ARE ALL SO SO NICE AHHH.
> 
> This was supposed to be porn and it turned into group bonding instead just. *flails weakly* I'll get there eventually.
> 
> No beta. All mistakes are mine own. 
> 
> Enjoy~

Everything hurts. It's pain and fear and the roar of blood in his ears, except his blood is screaming one word -- one _name_ \-- over and over again as Keith drags himself from the wreckage of the Galra ship he'd hijacked.

 

 _ShiroShiroShiroShiro_ **_SHIRO_ **

 

He tastes blood in his mouth. His throat is one continuous line of agony all the way down to his lungs. It feels like they're being torn apart and crushed by the cage of his ribs as he collapses in on himself.

 

_ShiroShiroShiropleaseShiroplease_

 

The black Lion crouches, opening her mouth and gently laying the limp body of her Paladin on the rocky ground. Keith is hunkered down on his hands and feet, his palms torn by the terrain as he runs like a Lion himself; the bunch and flex of his burning muscles getting him closer with every jump until he's skidding on his knees the last few feet.

 

_ShiroShiroShiroShiro-_

 

“ ** _Shiro!_** ”

 

His friend is silent and still, blood staining the shock of his white bangs red. It covers his face, drips from his open mouth; seeps through his bodysuit in too many places for Keith to count. He's whining high in his ruined throat, hands hovering until his fingers curl in and he starts to paw at the man who has become the center of his universe.

 

“Shiro,” he pleads, tapping at the Paladin's face and pressing gently at his chest. He's trying to feel for breathing, trying to feel for _anything_ that means _life,_ whimpering and pressing as close as he dares to Shiro's warmth. Their Lions stand guard, silent but radiating worry in their own unique way.

 

_ShiroShiroShiro_

 

Gentle hands touch him, trying to coax Keith away. He lashes out with a snarl, snapping blood-slicked teeth at the enemy and barely hearing the shocked exclamation. He's already focused on Shiro again, licking the blood away from his mouth and nose and _whining_ when his friendpartnereverything doesn't twitch or laugh or lick him back.

 

_ShiropleaseShironoplease_

 

Stronger hands grab him next, larger and firmer this time. Keith howls and struggles, kicking and biting as he's dragged away from Shiro. He's feral in his distress, words surrendering to instincts; instincts that are screaming at him to tear apart the figures hunched over what's _his._

 

“Keith, you need to calm down-”

 

“Holy crap. Okay, Keith? Need you to breathe, buddy-”

 

“-thing, but it's shallow-”

 

“What's happening to him? I've never seen-”

 

“-ucky we got here when we did. He wouldn't have made it mu-”

 

“Keith, please, I need you to calm down-”

 

Too many voices, too many conversations. They're screaming through his head, adding sound to the chaos until it's a thunderous roar crashing against the sides of his skull.

 

“Kolivan, what's happening-”

 

“-to be sedated. He's tearing his own wounds the more he struggles.”

 

“Someone _tell me_ -”

 

Keith senses something close to his face and bites, tasting sweetness in the flesh his teeth sink into. He snarls, blood bubbling around his lips; he can barely hear the pained cry over his own agony. All he cares about is getting back to-

 

_ShiroShiroShiro_

 

“Hunk, don't let go. Pidge, just _do it!_ ”

 

“-m so sorry, Keith. Please don't kill me for this-”

 

There's pressure at his nape. A pinprick of pain that's drowned out by the rest. It brings sluggishness, bleeding the fight from him through his wounds until Keith is whining in confusion. Bloody tears drip from his chin, leaving the taste of salt and metal in his mouth. He struggles weakly, his body failing to respond; head straining to stay up and see Shiro through the mass of people and the tendrils darkness crawling across his vision.

 

“-ay, Keith. It's okay. Rest. We'll keep you safe-”

 

“-iro,” he whimpers. “Sh-”

 

The darkness drags him down.

 

\---

 

Waking up happens by degrees. He leaves the darkness slowly, climbing his way through the senses. Sound is first, his own breathing too harsh and loud in his ears. He tastes old blood and something chemical. The feel of his clothes is too much against his skin. The darkness is getting lighter; when he breathes, he smells antiseptic and stale smoke.

 

Slowly, slowly, his body trying to remember how his muscles work. There's panic just below the surface, dulled by unconsciousness. Keith knows he's afraid, but he doesn't remember _why_.

 

The darkness is much lighter, but he can't see anything. He feels his eyelids, the delicate brush of his eyelashes; his fingers twitch at his sides.

 

Somewhere, something beeps loudly.

 

Whining, Keith turns his head away, trying to block out the sound. He feels something soft and plush beneath his cheek -- _pod pillow_ his mind supplies, his thoughts slow and thick. He feels like he's wading through molasses, trying to drag himself from the sticky pull onto more even ground.

 

He thinks he hears voices approaching.

 

_Shiro?_

 

Keith gasps, the sudden rush of air making him cough. He can't curl over, not in the sleep pod, but he can claw at the glass. Even that is weak and uncoordinated, his body feeling too heavy to move. He struggles, whining louder, and flinches when the pod starts to rise out of its chamber.

 

It's so much brighter now, light pouring across his closed eyes. Keith cracks them open slowly, trying not to blind himself. He sees Coran, looking worried and surprised. Allura, a hand tucked against her chest and wetness in her eyes. Pidge, Lance, and Hunk all jostle to be closer, giving him matching smiles that don't reach their eyes.

 

_Shiro?_

 

“Shiro?” His voice is barely a whisper, his mouth dry and his tongue thick. He looks past them, trying to see the familiar white tuft, but Voltron's leader is nowhere in sight. Keith whimpers pitifully, pressing at the glass until the veins in his forearms stand out. Coran taps to get his attention, shaking his head.

 

“I'll let you out in a tic, Keith, but you _must_ be still.”

 

How is he supposed to stay still when he can't see Shiro?

 

“Shiro,” he growls, insistent.

 

“You'll see him in a dobosh, my fiery friend,” the red-haired man promises. Keith holds his breath when the sleep pod cracks open with a hiss, letting the fresher mechanical air of the ship rush in. He shivers at the coolness of it and pushes himself forward, refusing to stop when his legs tremble and his knees threaten to bend beneath his lingering weakness.

 

“Whoa, whoa!” Lance protests, grabbing his shoulder to try and stop him. “Keith, man, come on. You've been out for a movement; give your body time!”

 

“Shiro,” he growls, trying to shrug the blue Paladin off. Pidge makes a sound that's full of distress, but he ignores her; ignores the goo Hunk is gently trying to offer and Allura's concerned silence and the way Coran is blustering behind him.

 

“I have to see Shiro.”

 

“Keith, what the _fuck,_ ” Lance groans. “I know you have a bigger vocabulary than just 'Shiro.’ Come on, man, you need to _rest._ ”

 

Keith grits his teeth. “I have been resting,” he grinds out, stalking back and forth in front of the chambers to try and figure out which one Shiro's in. He can't smell him, _he can't smell Shiro_ , and he whines before turning back to the others.

 

“I'll rest,” he promises, and he knows that he must look like a miserable mess but he can't bring himself to care. Not yet. “I will, I swear. Just, please. I need to see him.”

 

Coran sighs, but he moves to another control panel and Keith is quick to follow, crowding in beside the Altean. He tries not to vibrate out of his own skin, digging his nails into his palms and ignoring Lance when he complains, “Is this a Galra thing?”

 

Keith doesn't give a fuck what it is. He needs to see Shiro.

 

The pod comes up, and his breath catches.

 

_Shiro._

 

He's clean, his face relaxed. Keith can't see the bruises or the blood, but he remembers them all too well. Whining, he presses his hand against the pod's window, watching his friend's chest rise and fall in slow, steady repetition. Those storm-colored eyes stay closed, but it doesn't matter, because he's alive and breathing and _here_. Keith rubs his cheek against the pod, still ignoring the others. He can feel Coran watching him, but he doesn't care. All that matters is that Shiro is alive.

 

“When will he wake up?” he asks quietly. Coran's hums is thoughtful.

 

“It's hard to say. Stasis lasts for as long as you need it to, when the pods are healing. You were asleep for a movement, and honestly, we weren't expecting you to wake up so soon. You both took heavy damage in the fight.”

 

“Is everyone else okay?” He lets his eyes trace Shiro's strong jaw, the curve of his ear.

 

“Minor injuries compared to you two, and no fatalities, thank the stars. You and Shiro gave us quite a fright, I'll tell you that.”

 

“You went off script,” Pidge translates, bluntly stating what Coran is hedging around. “What were you _thinking?_ ”

 

Keith shrugs. “Didn't have a choice.” Finally listening to his shaking body, he sinks to his knees and leans against the side of Shiro's pod. “They knew our movements. It was like they were ready for them. We had to come up with something, fast.”

 

“You, like, totally stole a Galra fighter.” Hunk comes to sit in front of him, cross-legged, with the bowl of goo on his lap. “You threw the sentry at _another_ fighter,” he adds, sounding awed. When he offers a spoonful, Keith opens his mouth to accept it without fuss; if he tries to hold the spoon himself, he knows he's going to drop it. Part of him rankles at his own weakness, hating it, but the rest of him -- the part Shiro has come to know so well, has accepted and grown with -- offers more than the sliver of trust he's given them until now.

 

Hunk looks thrilled, hurrying to scoop up more and feed it to him. When Keith accepts that as well, the yellow Paladin moves even closer with stars in his eyes.

 

Lance squawks. It seems to be the only way he knows how to respond.

 

Pidge watches quietly.

 

At his back, Shiro sleeps.

 

\---

 

“Keith?”

 

He barely lifts his head from where it's resting on his folded arms. “I told you, I'm fine here.”

 

 _Here_ is curled up at the base of Shiro's sleep pod, in a nest of blankets Pidge brought for him after the second quintant they'd been unable to coax him away. He's not sure where Hunk found all of the spare pillows his friend had piled into it, but they're soft and they bring him comfort.

 

“I know,” Allura promises gently. She kneels outside of his nest, her hands resting on her knees while she watches him. Keith blinks tiredly, resting his head down again and curling his knees closer to his chest.

 

An old memory flits through his mind; _him, no older than six, curled into a tiny ball while his father pet his hair and joked about raising a pup for a son._

 

“Shiro will wake,” the Princess continues. She hesitates for a moment, looking uncertain. Keith lifts his head again, watching her thoughts swirl through her crystal blue eyes.

 

“I know,” he says quietly.

 

“Is this… common, for your people?” Allura offers him her hand, palm-up and relaxed. Keith can't see the imprint of pain his teeth left, but the clear act of trust and acceptance shakes him.

 

“No.” The word tastes ashy on his tongue; another reminder of just how different he is. “Is it a Galra thing?”

 

“I don't believe so.” She leaves her hand outstretched, waiting patiently. “I've never seen a Galra act this way, nor any of the other Paladins. Except Shiro, I suppose.”

 

Keith's head jerks up, his eyes widening. “You've seen Shiro like this?”

 

Allure makes a soothing noise, her hand steady. If she's uncomfortable, he'll never be able to tell. “Only with you, Keith. When the others weren't around. Is it something just for you two?”

 

Unsure how to answer, Keith jerks a shoulder in an awkward shrug. “I've always been this way. Shiro wasn't, though. Not… not until recently.” He shifts closer to the edge of the nest, lingering wariness keeping his eyes on her face. Allure doesn't push, seemingly content to wait until Keith rests his chin on her palm and breathes slowly. Her fingers, so slim and tender, curl to stroke his cheek.

 

“I'm sure he was,” the Altean replies with a small, knowing smile. She pets her way slowly up to his head, pausing whenever Keith twitches or grits his teeth; moving only once he's relaxed.

 

“What do you mean?” Her fingers comb through his tangled hair, gently working through the knots so as not to pull and cause pain. It feels nice. Not the same as when Shiro does it, but it's still nice.

 

Allura hums quietly, an unfamiliar melody that makes him feel even more drowsy. When he lays his head on her knee, she rests her other hand between his shoulders.

 

“Sometimes, in order to accept things about ourselves, we must first meet others who share our uniqueness.” She sounds like she's speaking from experience. Keith closes his eyes, letting her voice lull him into a calmer state. “We hide who we are until we no longer have to, because now we have met someone else like us. They make us brave.”

 

“Sounds like Shiro,” he huffs quietly. And then, quieter still, “It hurts. Without him.”

 

Allura presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “I know. He will come back to you soon, Keith. Until he can, please; let us help you in his stead.”

 

“I have been.” He shifts, turning so he can look through the window and see Shiro's face. “I've been trying to,” he amends.

 

“It's not always easy,” Allura agrees. “You've been doing so well.” Her praise warms him, but it's not _Shiro's_. It reminds him of the women from the town he grew up in -- motherly and affectionate. “I'm not going to ask you to leave this spot. I know you won't.” His eyes flick to her face in time to catch her rueful smile. “You need to eat though, Keith.”

 

He looks away again, guilt squirming in his stomach. “I have been.”

 

“Not nearly enough. You should _hear_ Hunk at meals. I think he's planning on force-feeding you if he takes another full plate back.”

 

The thing is, he knows Hunk would try it, too. And that won't end well for anyone.

 

“I'm not used to this,” Keith whispers, squeezing his eyes shut at Allura's sad frown. “I'm not _made_ for this.”

 

“Everyone is made for this,” the Princess says gently. “I fear, though, that some don't get to experience it nearly enough. But it makes them cherish the ones they _do_ find even more.”

 

He lets her words roll around in his mind, accompanied by the tender strokes of her fingers over his scalp. She doesn't scratch like Shiro does, or press behind his ears. Only once do her fingers lightly touch the base of his skull, near the bite scar, but they move away quickly. It's as if she knows she's not permitted to touch.

 

“I'll eat,” he promises after several dobashes of companionable silence. “Thank you, Allura.”

 

She kisses his head again. “Oh, Keith. You don't ever have to thank me for this. It is I who should be thanking _you._ ”

 

Frowning, he turns to look up at her fully. He can't hide his confusion when he asks, “Why?”

 

This time, Allura's kiss finds the center of his forehead. “For trusting me,” she says simply, giving him such a grateful smile that he can't help but smile shyly back.

 

“Oh.”

 

\---

 

A broad hand rubs over his head, rousing him from sleep. Keith yawns and stretches, knowing how much he looks like one of the Lions when he does it; complete with his mouth open and his tongue curling.

 

“Breakfast?” he asks blearily, squinting up at Hunk and Lance before he pushes himself into a kneeling position.

 

“Yup,” Hunk says happily, offering him the plate piled high with nutrient-rich goo. Keith accepts it, looking up at Shiro to check on him before he starts eating.

 

“Any difference?” Lance asks, his usual goofball nature tucked away behind a mask of quiet concern and hope. Keith knows that there's more to his friend than rivalry and loud, boisterous declarations, but sometimes it's easy to forget that coping mechanisms come in all forms.

 

“His vitals are all good. He's as healed as he's gonna get,” Keith replies. “He's just not ready to wake up yet.” He loses himself in tracing the familiar jawline, the bow of Shiro's mouth, until Hunk makes a strangled noise over his untouched meal.

 

“Makes sense.” They're both at the edge of his nest, respecting his need for space. Hunk looks ready to crawl out of his own skin, but Lance…

 

He's not sure what Lance is thinking. He's hiding it well, but Keith can see something in his eyes, a different kind of hope that makes him shift to lean against Shiro's pod to open up more space. They both look at him, waiting, trying not to assume.

 

Keith takes a bite of food. Jerks his head slightly. Tries not to startle at how quickly they both scramble to join him, warm and humming and _alive_. The air smells like excitement and acceptance. Hunk looks like he's nearly in tears when he holds up his hand and Keith presses his forehead against the Paladin's palm. It's large and wide, but still as gentle as it was when his friend roused him to eat.

 

Lance takes his plate before it gets knocked by their combined scramble to settle. “If I don't do this, you'll _never_ eat,” he huffs, but Keith can see past his bluster. He sees the care and concern, accepts it for what it is, and lets the blue Paladin feed him without a fight. Hunk is making a pleased noise, not unlike a purr; nowhere near as deep as Shiro's rumbles, but still pleasant.

 

“Do you think bonding with our Lions did this to us?” Lance wonders, stealing the next bite of food and smirking at Keith's grumble before he offers another spoonful.

 

“Maybe with you guys,” Keith says quietly. “I've always been like this.”

 

“Really?” Lance perks up. “I think I would remember seeing you act like a cat at the Garrison.”

 

Keith bares his teeth without heat. “It's not like I broadcast it to everyone I met.”

 

“No, no, I totally get it,” Hunk interjects eagerly. He looks like an excited puppy. “It's like, totally a trust thing, right? You only do it around people you trust? Right?”

 

_“Gotta be careful who sees **you** , Keith. Ain't that many nice people in the world. Gotta keep it close.” _

 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees quietly. He watches Lance lick the spoon clean, seemingly unconcerned about them sharing germs. The plate gets set a safe distance away, and before Keith knows what's happening, the three of them are curled up together in the nest, talking and laughing quietly as they reminisce about their days as Garrison cadets until sleep coaxes them under.

 

Keith cracks open an eye when he senses Pidge some time later, churring to her quietly in greeting. She chirps back from where she's sitting outside the nest, smiling fondly, and wriggles her way into the tangled lump they've become when he lifts an arm in offering. He shifts to make a little more room, breathing in her scent when she curls up between him and Lance, her face pressed against his shirt.

 

“Not a Lion thing, huh?” she murmurs.

 

“Nah,” Keith gets out around a yawn. “Not a Lion thing.”

 

“Just an us thing,” the green Paladin muses.

 

Keith falls asleep still smiling.

 

\---

 

There's warmth at his back and a heavy hand on his hip. His nose is filled with the scent of ozone and musk, like a rainforest right before a storm. Keith yawns, stretching against the body he's curled up against. Lips press against his nape, brushing over the scar; the rumble that follows is strong enough to reverberate through his marrow.

 

Keith rolls over, eyes wide and sleep forgotten. Dark gray eyes watch him, that familiar mouth pulled into a crooked smile.

 

“ _Shiro,_ ” he breathes.

 

Shiro smiles wider, rumbling again. “Hey, kit,” he murmurs. “Glad you're alright.”

 

_Shiro._

 

“Shiro,” he says again, his voice raw. The black Paladin shushes him gently, rolling them so he's stretched out over Keith. He tilts his head back when Shiro nuzzles his throat; licks whatever skin he can reach until the man finds his mouth and kisses him with such aching gentleness that Keith shudders back into himself.

 

“Welcome back,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around the center of his everything and pulling him down into the nest again.

 

“One day, you're going to believe me when I say that I'm not going anywhere.” Shiro nuzzles and licks at his hair. Kisses his forehead and his nose. Licks Keith's mouth.

 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, his voice cracking. He licks Shiro's jaw, rubs their cheeks together, and feels everything click back into place.

 

Shiro's rumble against his ear is just like coming home.


End file.
